A SMALL WHITE PANEL TRUCK crossed the overpass above the highway we were traveling on—just when I needed it. Self-condemnation had been engulfing me as I tried in vain to get us to our destination. We were lost. And my husband was due at a large memorial service where he was to play a key part.
We should have been there early, certainly well before this time. But I'd brought wrong directions, and stopping to ask for help hadn't worked. So we both prayed for guidance, and I battled self-reproach.
Then, there it was. A simple company truck passing across my line of vision at the exact moment I looked up. It carried just one word, in large unmistakable letters: Faultless.
